


Heroes and Villains:  Of Attempted Rescues and Meetings

by irishlullaby13



Series: Heroes and Villains [2]
Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: AU: Hero/Villain, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Attempt at Humor, F/M, Trope: hero/villain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2016-06-01
Packaged: 2018-07-11 14:22:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7056133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irishlullaby13/pseuds/irishlullaby13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the beginning there was a rescue attempt... in the end there was some light bondage involved.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heroes and Villains:  Of Attempted Rescues and Meetings

They wouldn't let Abbie talk to him once she had confirmed he wasn't the one to kill Sheriff Corbin. Not that she didn't try. Oh, she had tried all right. She wanted to hear what he had to say once he mentioned the bow on the Headless Horseman's hand. But Irving had put a proverbial cop-block on her every attempt to talk to him.

Irving hadn't let her be the one to take him to the mental institution. Irving hadn't let her question him further. Irving had literally banned her from trying to see him while at the institution. All that she _was_ able to do was have the nurses slip a note to her sister, because her sister still wouldn't talk to her face to face.

 _Jenny, I believe you. I need your help_ , is all Abbie had jotted down.

The next morning Jenny had been willing to speak to her. Jenny steered her toward files and even a little cabin in the woods that had belonged to the late Sheriff. If she was reading things right, she was meant to be one of two witnesses to the Apocalypse. Certain groups of people thought they were meant to literally warn people and watch it happen. Other groups thought they were meant to fight and try to stop it. Some other groups were even of the mind that they were the sole cause of it.

Abbie took it to mind that they were meant to stop it. And, if it started happening, she was going to stop it. She didn't know how. But she was. With or without help.

It was several months later, when Jenny had been released from Tarrytown, that things started getting weird in Sleepy Hollow. Again, Abbie had insisted on talking to the man they had brought in the night of Sheriff Corbin's murder. She had a feeling he would be an important ally in all of this crazy Apocalypse stuff.

However, this time she couldn't because his “family” had taken him into their care. And, of course, she couldn't get access to his records to find out where home was. After a while she stopped trying.

It was just her and Jenny. Fighting the good fight.

Occasionally they would have some assistance from a cute guy or two, that was absolutely clueless about what was going on, so it wasn't always boring. And then Joe had come along to pick up where his Dad had left off. He added some much needed muscle to the group and gave Jenny something to look at. They had even found a way to help with his whole Wendigo issue, so that was a bonus.

Then one day, Joe arrived at the house looking both very pleased with himself and annoyed. “I found him,” Joe said. “I pulled some strings with the Masons and found him for you Abbie.”

Abbie eyed Joe for a moment. “I'm sensing a 'but'...”

Joe sighed heavily. “Oh yeah,” he said flatly. “They're kind of keeping him away from everyone. Only a select few of the Masons are allowed to even have contact with him. To put it in the most basic of terms... I think they're trying to use him to actually usher _in_ the Apocalypse.”

“That's... very not good,” Abbie replied.

“Okay,” Jenny said. “So we storm wherever it is they're holding him, kidnap him... and get him on our side.” Joe stared at Jenny a long moment like she was insane. “What?”

“I admire your enthusiasm,” Joe commented dryly. “From what I've seen it's already too late for that. They're already cooking up some kind of plan. Besides, they got security out the ass on the place so it'd be kind of like... three against a hundred.”

“I think we can take them,” Jenny boasted. “I mean, me and Abbie both are getting pretty good at magic...”

“They have magic of their own, Jenny,” Abbie reminded. “And they've had time to learn how to do it well and use it effectively. We'd have to be more cautious. We'd have to be sneakier.” She met Jenny's eyes and she realized they were suddenly thinking the same thing.

“You'd have to be careful,” Jenny said quietly. Abbie nodded. “Joe will have to see if he can find out anything you need to look out for...”

Joe blinked cluelessly. “Why?”

Abbie smiled knowingly. “Because... _I_ am going to break in.”

  
#  


His first few months, after the initial rush of being arrested then carted away had been spent in a wobbly stupor. Ichabod had no idea what the various 'meds' in the little cup were but they had made it quite enjoyable to just lay in bed and do nothing for hours on end. He was only dimly aware that food was brought to him three times a day.

The nurses became annoyed with him when he would flip the switch on the lights to turn them on and off just for the sake of watching the light magically appear. They had also been quite displeased when he disassembled the second bed in his room—they didn't give him a “roommate” because they were waiting on “bloodwork” and then they had to wait for the doctor to “okay vaccines.” And apparently it “creeped people out” when he would stand at the window for hours on end, sometimes pressing his face to the glass, to observe what was going on outside.

One particular nurse became his favourite. She was a tall, wall of a woman named Latisha that looked like she would gladly snatch off someone's face if given the slightest provocation, yet she was incredibly gentle and kind. When he got antsy and started pacing, wanting to be out of the place, and he would not listen to any of them or take the precious 'meds' they were so adamant on giving him, they would send her in.

“Okay, baby, I heard you've been being rude to everyone today,” she said sweetly as she came into his room. “They said you made Dr. Reed cry... and that man don't cry for nothing.”

Ichabod sat on the edge of his bed, chin lifted defiantly. “I shall inform _you_ , Miss Latisha...” he huffed. She pursed her lips and stared at him, unimpressed with his attitude. Ichabod looked down at his feet, mood deflated. “They deserved it.”

She planted herself next to him on the bed and handed him the little cup full of meds. “I know you don't like it, Babe, but you have to make sure you take your medicine.” She gave him a gentle nudge with her elbow. “Come on...”

Ichabod sucked in a breath and eyed the little cup. “I do not want to. They make my mind feel thick with fog... And I am not even aware of how long I have been in this deplorable place.”

“Do I have to hold your skinny ass down and force them down your throat?” They held each other's gaze for a moment, she cocked an eyebrow and folded her arms over her chest. “You know I'll do it.”

Ichabod grumbled under his breath but took the medicines. Miss Latisha passed him a small cup of apple juice to accompany the pills. His eyes lit up when she pulled a book from the pocket of her scrub shirt. He eagerly took it from her. “You delightful woman. If you were not betrothed, rest assured, I would gladly kiss you for this kindness.”

“Well, since you enjoyed Pride and Prejudice, I thought you might like Sense and Sensibility,” she chuckled. “And we're just waiting on a couple more evaluations to see if it's safe for you to be around everyone else. It shouldn't be much longer.”

“I only wished to have a window opened so that I could have fresh air,” Ichabod huffed. “I do not understand the issue as there are bars upon the windows.” He jutted his hand toward the windows in question.

Latisha gave him a faux stern look. “Those big puppy dog eyes don't work on me, sir. I have a five year old.”

Ichabod sighed and looked down at the book in his hands. “Thank you again, Miss Latisha for showing me such kindness. Especially as it is obvious from everyone else's behaviour, you do not have to. Out of all the staff at this facility, you are my favourite.”

She rubbed his back soothingly. “Well someone has to be the nice one. The CNAs will be bringing dinner around soon. Be good this time, okay?” Ichabod nodded mutely. “And just so you know, you're my favourite patient.”

Ichabod felt his face warm and smiled shyly. “You say that to all of your patients, I warrant.”

Latisha nodded gently. “I do... but with you I actually mean it.” She stood and smoothed down her uniform. “Now be good for the girls, Captain. I'll be back around to check on you.”

It wasn't too long after that the fogginess set in and Ichabod became contented to just lay in bed staring at the wall. Once he had slept off the majority of the fog, he awoke to the sound of leaves caught in a gentle breeze. The window had been opened. He settled down on the floor near the window and tucked into the book and gave no further quarrel to any of the staff.

A few days later, a gentleman arrived claiming to have been sent by his family to fetch him. Ichabod was permitted to have his regular clothing returned and was quickly taken to an estate where he was once again put in a secluded area, a cellar of sorts. But at least he could open the tiny window if he so pleased.

At long last he was informed of precisely what had occurred over the past 250 years. If he tried hard enough he could actually recall the events of his death. The gentleman that had claimed him from the institution vowed that they—the Masons—were there to help him in his role in the Apocalypse, whatever it turned out to be. His tone made suggestion that Ichabod was to help _bring_ the End Times. There was a lingering sense of doubt at the back of Ichabod's mind, wondering if that was actually what it was meant to be.

It was early the next afternoon that the headaches started settling in. By the end of that day, he was feeling small flashes of being too hot, too cold. The gentleman informed him that he was probably beginning to “detox” from what the institution had been giving him... whatever the hell that meant.

By time the second morning rolled around, Ichabod was fairly certain he was trapped in Hell. At least he _felt_ like he was on fire. That is, when he didn't feel like he was freezing. He snapped at anyone that came too near. He demanded to speak with Miss Latisha immediately as he was fully prepared and ready to take his medicine if it would make everything stop.

That was when Moloch appeared. At first he was in the mirror. Then he was looming over Ichabod's cot, demanding allegiance. Ichabod was quick to demand the demon go do something rather unsavoury to himself. The demon approached him a second and third time with a similar result, each time more graphic than the last.

The fourth time the creature promised to make everything—the pain, the sweating, the shaking—stop if he swore himself to his service. The fifth time... Ichabod gave in. Then passed out.

He awoke to commotion outside of his door. All he was really aware of was that he wasn't feeling pain and he was neither shivering nor sweating any more. He was only dimly aware of what sounded like gunshots—several of them—before he let himself pass out again.

  
#  


Abbie kept herself curled up in the back seat, rocking back and forth. That hadn't gone as planned.

“Are you going to be okay?” Jenny asked from the driver's seat.

Abbie shook her head then nodded. “Yeah... yeah. It's just... I wasn't prepared for that. It was the same creature, Jenny. The same one from when we were kids. I put two clips in it and it didn't even phase it.” She closed her eyes and took several calming breaths. “That's what we're up against. That creature. That's what we have to fight. You and me.”

Jenny gave a bitter chuckle. “Talk about facing our demons.”

Abbie let her head fall back against the window. “That's terrible Jenny,” she laughed. 

“What are we going to do about the other guy?” Jenny asked. “What if he really is one of the bad guys?”

Staring out of the window on the other side of the car, Abbie watched trees zip by as they sped toward the cabin Joe was staying in. “We'll have to treat him like one of the bad guys and take him out.”

  
#  


Ichabod had been intrigued the first time she thwarted his plans. She was quick as lightening and could scale small structures with ease, making it incredibly hard to get close enough to engage in actual combat with her. Although, having seen her engaging with Moloch's minions a time or two made him wonder if it would be best to avoid getting close enough for her to grab on to.

He had already witnessed her climb Moloch like a tree and drive an enchanted dagger into his head. The attack had forced the demon to shirk back to Purgatory for two weeks to recuperate. Even then the demon had not seemed wholly recovered.

But then came a very fortunate day that they managed to capture her. It was quite fortunate, actually. He had just about been ready to cast a spell to unleash a monster from the depths of hell—as one is wont to do from time to time—and he heard _it_. He had heard her sweet voice softly singing _La da da dee da da da da_ and silenced those in the room. She had certainly been surprised when they had been ready for her as soon as the lock clicked on the door and she pushed it open.

To be fair, she may have stood a chance if she hadn't still been knelt down.

_“Do not harm her,” he ordered them. “I wish to speak to her.”_

Ichabod had them take her to the masonic cell located in the tunnels under town. He didn't want to risk that she was endued with some sort of supernatural force that could explain why she was able to beat them so easily. Obviously she was rather angry at being captured so he gave her time to calm down before going to pay her a visit.

Upon arrival, he sent away the men guarding the door to the cell. She was but one woman, so he doubted he would be in any danger.

She was humming the soft tune when he entered the cell. Her head lifted defiantly as he approached and she managed to get onto her feet with ease despite the fact her hands were manacled behind her back. Ichabod stopped short and tilted his head curiously. Dark eyes peered at him from behind the mask, unafraid... stubborn even.

She was surprisingly petite but held herself in a way that made her seem immovable.

“For some reason, I thought you would be taller,” Ichabod commented, folding his arms over his chest. He warranted she wouldn't even reach his shoulders if she wasn't wearing such thick bottomed boots.

She shrugged. “Yeah, well, usually guys have to at least buy me dinner before chaining me to a wall,” she said, flirtatiously fluttering her lashes. “I guess we both get to be disappointed.” His confusion at her comment must have been apparently because her lips twisted into a pretty little smirk and she added, “Google it.”

Ichabod huffed indignantly and smoothed down his coat. He wasn't about to tell her he precisely to what she had been referring with the first comment. But he had no idea what 'Google it' meant. It sounded like something Benjamin Franklin would enjoy. “Who are you?” he asked after a moment of silently observing her. There was something familiar about the way she held herself, the defiant tilt of her chin and her commanding presence.

“None of your business,” she drawled.

“I am...”

“I know who you are,” she interrupted. “Captain Ichabod Crane. I've heard your name around town.”

“Impressive,” Ichabod replied. “Seems rather rude that you know who I am, yet I do not know who you are.”

“I have friends and family I don't getting hurt, so you're not _going_ to know,” she said softly, a lazy smile touching her lips. He tentatively reached for her mask, pausing when she stepped back. “You will regret it if you do that.”

“I believe I have a right to know who the pretty little siren that keeps breaking into my house _is_.”

“If you so much as lay a finger on me... you will very much regret it,” she said sternly.

In hindsight, he probably should have listened. Because the very moment he reached for her mask again, within seconds, his face was mere inches away from the floor. She had a knee in the middle of his back, and the chain to the manacles that were _supposed_ to be on her wrists was wrapped around his neck.

She sighed heavily. “Okay... now... we have two options, Captain,” she murmured close to his ear. “One, you let me escape and we both live to fight another day... Your second option is, I strangle you with this chain _then_ escape. Which is it?”

She gave him just enough slack to choke out, “I yield... I yield.”

When she let go of the chain, Ichabod rested his forehead against the floor to catch his breath. Her weight lifted off of his back. He looked up as she shashayed toward the door, humming that damn song. “How did you get loose?”

She turned when she reached the door, a slow smile appearing on her lips. “Maybe tell your boys to check me more thoroughly next time. I had a spare lock pick in my back pocket.” She held up the pick in question, waving in tauntingly before returning it to her pocket. “See ya, Captain. And tell your little friend Molly I'm not him scared any more.”

“Molly?” Ichabod asked, getting to his knees. He swallowed hard and rubbed his neck where the chain had been. 

“Your little demon buddy.”

“I'll have you know Moloch is one of the highest ranking demons of Hell... you would do well to fear him.”

She laughed heartily. “That bitch's name is Molly now.”

Without another word she exited the chamber, stopping only to retrieve her guns from the little observation room before bouncing out into the corridor.

  
#  


Abbie stared down at the newspaper in confusion. _Masked vigilante terrorizes local war veteran._ It wasn't the headline that had her perplexed, although that certainly ranked high on the list of things that annoyed her about the article. Probably due to the influence of the Mason's, she was being painted as some asshole that went around harassing people and _of course_ Captain Ichabod Crane was being portrayed as her helpless victim.

Of course, edited out was the fact he had built three small robot armies so far and summoned demons on a regular basis that threatened the people of Sleepy Hollow. But, sure, _she_ was the asshole. Never mind she had managed to hold off the beginning of the Apocalypse for the umpteenth time in six months.

The primary cause of her confusion was the name they were calling her in the article. _The Siren_. Why the hell would they call her _The Siren_? Sure, the Captain had a habit of referring to her as a his 'pretty little siren' but... that didn't really answer the _why_. But now the papers were doing it too.

Then it occurred to her to wonder _why did_ the Captain refer to her as a siren? Was it the whole displaced pirate thing he had going on? What was his deal anyway?

Then again, bad guys always did seem to have some weird quirk. Maybe his was that he forgot to change his calender after 1776.

She was almost tempted to call the information hotline and give them a piece of her mind for making her out to be a menace. Abbie would certainly inform them of how _she_ was trying to prevent _him_ from being a menace. But then she realized the number was to the Westchester Sheriff's Department dispatch and thought better of it. She was pretty sure Lottie and Jason would recognize her voice.

But that was the only reason. 

The more she mulled the name over in her head... the more she liked it. It had a nice ring to it. _The Siren_. That's what she would call herself. Sexy and alluring... but capable of dragging someone to their death. She liked it a lot. She made a mental note to start using it.

**Author's Note:**

> Just wanted to throw this out there: I am currently taking requests for imagine-your-otp's, AU's, and tropes at my tumblr. So if there's something you would like to see me try, drop it in my ask box or send me a message. Link should be on my profile but, just in case, user name is irishlullaby


End file.
